


Insert Tab A in Slot B

by foolishgames



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 21:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolishgames/pseuds/foolishgames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam attempt sex.  How hard can it be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insert Tab A in Slot B

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to livejournal March 2007

The first time is a disaster.

See, so far it’s been all blowjobs and hands jobs and some fairly enthusiastic frottage. And that’s been okay by Dean, it really has, because: orgasms. And Sam’s wide, talented mouth and his huge hands, and wow, yeah. It’s been good. Dean’s got no complaints, none at all, but he’s kind of easy that way.

So when they’re making out like a couple of horny teenagers on a motel bed, gradually losing clothing and dignity as they struggle for a better angle to rub at each other, and Sam puts his mouth wetly just below Dean’s ear, and presses a thigh up against his crotch and says, “Dean, I want – I want to try,” and trails his fingers down the line of Dean’s spine to his ass, Dean can only pant and nod and clutch at Sam’s shoulders. 

Because: easy that way.

~

Sam’s face is hidden in his hands. Dean is torn between giggling like a twelve-year-old and comforting his brother. “It’s okay, Sammy,” he tries, but is unable to keep a kind of hysterical wobble out of his voice.

“It’s not.” Sam’s voice is muffled. He sounds mortified, and the line of his shoulders is set.

Dean sighs and wiggles over to sit on the edge of the bed beside his brother. “It is. It’s no big deal. It’s just sex.”

“Bad sex. Sex that was bad. We had bad sex.” Sam doesn’t even lift his head.

Dean ponders this. “Well, technically, we didn’t.”

Sam looks at Dean, finally, astonished. “You can’t tell me you thought that was good.”

“Not good. But not technically sex, either. I mean, there was no actual,” and here Dean makes a universally understood gesture that gets him shoved clear off the bed. “I’m just saying.”

Sam turns away, curling up on the bed defensively. Dean props his chin on the edge of the mattress. “You shouldn’t worry so much.”

“Why not?” Sam’s in full-on embarrassed sulk mode, and Dean grins and crawl onto the bed behind him.

“Because you won’t enjoy your blowjob nearly as much.”

Sam looks at him like can’t even believe Dean is thinking about blowjobs at a time like this, then rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says pissily, like it’s the biggest chore in the world to roll over onto his back and let Dean suck him.

Dean laughs out loud. “This is sex too,” he points out, kissing Sam’s hipbone. “And we’re pretty good at this bit.” He takes Sam in hand, squeezing gently, and watches Sam try to retain his pissed-off face. The Face collapses into a sort of dazed expression when he lowers his head and licks.

“We are, aren’t we,” says Sam faintly.

~

The second time, they’re both drunk, and Dean doesn’t really remember it the next morning. He’s pretty sore when he wakes up the next morning though, and Sam is watching him warily all through breakfast.

Dean wipes up the last of the egg yolk with a bit of toast and washes it down with a swig of almost-cold coffee. “Okay, so.”

Sam looks hunted. “What?”

“We did it again, didn’t we.” It’s not a question, and Sam squirms.

“Um. Not. Technically?”

Dean picks up the local newspaper and pretends interest in the local prize-winning bulls. “No? What happened?” There’s an odd noise from across the table, and Dean doesn’t have to look to know that Sam is making that uncomfortable face. “Sammy?”

“You passed out.”

Dean jerks his gaze up, horrified. “I did not!” Dean Winchester does not fall asleep during sex. It’s like a law.

Sam’s blushing, looking miserable. He nods. “I was, I was,” he drops his voice to a whisper and leans forward. “I was using my fingers, you know, like the book said, and you were kind of squirming and mumbling and I thought everything was going okay but then you started snoring.” It all tumbles out in a rush, and if Sam’s face gets any redder his hair’s going to catch fire.

Dean stares.

“And I didn’t know what to do, man! You were fast asleep and I had three fingers up your ass!”

Dean shifts in his seat. No wonder he’s sitting funny today. Sam’s got huge hands. Sam is also on the verge of something that might be nervous hysteria, breathing funny, red-faced and looking panicked. “Okay, stop.”

Sam looks at him, helpless. Dean takes a few deep breaths, pointedly, and Sam copies him. When they’re both calm, Dean lays his hands flat against the table in a way that makes him look authoritative and manly. “We are going to work this out. We are going to do our research and get supplies and have actual, proper sex.” He expects Sam to look enraptured and adoring at his take-charge, no-bullshit manner, but he doesn’t. “And it’s going to be good, you hear me?”

“Very sorry, ma’am,” says Sam to the shocked waitress. “We’re just leaving.”

~

They spend the next week hunting down a spirit in a medium-sized town in Wyoming. Between trips to the library and cheerfully lying to the local police, they watch a lot of porn and repeatedly visit all three of the local adult stores.

They buy three separate instructional manuals, and Dean draws moustaches on all the diagrams that don’t already have them. Sam buys enough lube that Dean start to get worried. They have many sensible, sober discussions about positions and foreplay and condoms. The debate the relative merits of sex toys (Dean cheerfully in favour, Sam tentatively interested), rimming (Dean flatly opposed – ew – and Sam rather too interested for Dean’s comfort) flavoured lube (They end up getting five different flavours before Dean figures out they all taste pretty much the same) and the use and presence of alcohol.

Sam conceives elaborate, detailed plans and writes them all down. Dean scribbles sarcastic comments in the margins and draws smiley faces next to the bits that involve him getting licked or sucked. His own plans – no less elaborate – stay inside his own head.

One night Sam sucks him off while pressing those long, long fingers inside him, one at a time, working him loose, and Dean comes so hard he thinks he might actually have hurt himself. He lies there afterwards, dazed, and thinks, now would be good, but when he looks down there’s a patch of spreading dampness on the front of Sam’s jeans. Sam blushes, and Dean can’t even mock him, just touches his hair and tries to remember how to breathe.

~

It’s not great, the first time.

It’s awkward and messy, and they’re both so nervous the keep getting in each other’s way, and Sam spills lube all over the sheets, and really, Dean feels ridiculous on his back with his legs in the air, even though that was what they’d agreed on. Sam’s skittish and terrified of hurting him, and without his mouth on Dean’s dick, the sensation of anything up his ass is quite painful and not at all pleasant so by the time Sam’s finished with his fingers Dean can feel his erection flagging.

The look on Sam’s face is almost hungry, hopeful and desperate. He’s kissing Dean’s face and neck and asking him, “Ready? Okay, Dean?” and Dean just curl his legs up around Sam’s waist and tries to relax.

Sam’s first push hurts like hell. It’s not as bad as being shot, or even punched, but ten minutes ago Dean didn’t even know he had nerve endings there, and the pain is so unprecedented and so personal that he wants to squirm away. He buries his face in Sam’s neck and shudders, muscles clenching up.

The pain fades after a while under Sam’s tentative, shallow strokes, but Sam doesn’t last long, and the blooming warmth inside Dean is one of the weirdest things he’s ever felt. He strokes Sam’s hair and back and waits for the tremors to settle, then shoves at him until he slips free of Dean with a slick pop. Dean shudders and winces, shifting his hips tentatively and feeling more than hearing something squelch.

Sam’s pretty dazed, but his post-orgasm happy and vague sense of guilt at coming first make for a pretty decent blowjob. Dean still makes him sleep in the wet spot.

He counts the night a win, all up.


End file.
